


Out of Bounds

by Emblue_Sparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks/pseuds/Emblue_Sparks
Summary: Dean Winchester is a specialist, the best in the business. Until a cut and dry contract goes south fast, and now they both are definitely not in Kansas anymore.





	Out of Bounds

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Destiel NaNoWriMo facebook group for Promptober 2017. Today's word is RUN.

If you asked Charon Styx, aka-Dean Winchester (his top side I.D.) the hottest transport/retrieval specialist in the business, what his favorite part of the job is you might get the answer, “All the shiny chocolate coinage, without any of the consequences.” 

Or another good one might be, “The purring sound of my Baby when we're hot on the trail of a runner.” He might sound like a vengeful glutton, but it's the farthest from the truth. 

The honest answer would be the never ending droves of people he gets to talk with. He works for a ruthless boss on a supply and demand basis of sorts. Lucky for him business is always booming which means people die, he demands payment, for which he supplies transportation to the shit show known as Underworld. Never been? It's like Vegas meets Bangkok, with a little T.J. trying to B & E through the back door. Not ideal, but he's got a few friends in low places which once or twice a millennium comes in handy. 

Most of the time he sticks with run of the mill transport, sound boring? It's not. He lost track of how old he is thousands of years ago, yet he still shows up to work with anticipation each day, knowing he’ll get the story of the century. Yesterday he had a fare who’d been blitzed out of his mind on angel dust and tried to rob the seafood department at Kroger's Market in Butler, Indiana by shoving a lobster down his pants. The idiot was flailing around so much the poor, smothered creature managed to pinch his thigh hard enough to clip the femoral artery without an actual laceration so the Daily Darwin Award went to the guy who officially bled out...without bleeding out anywhere save into his muscle tissues. It's the little things that bring Dean pleasure. 

But once in awhile he’ll get a call for a runner. Some poor soul he or a coworker ferried into the dark dominion that just can't handle drinking their ovaltine for eternity and tries to take the fire escape into no man's land. Dean is summoned, he takes the job, he and Baby get a predetermined amount of time off leash to track down and drag Mr. or Mrs. Chariots of Fire back into the fold. He loves it because he can let his hair down, breathe the free air. He’s a specialist afterall, which means he knows every possible combination of paths the runner can take. He even knows a few completely off map, which he personally discovered with Cerby, that nobody knows lead out into the wild blue yonder. Cerby is short for Cerberus, his gentle giant of a three headed hound who wouldn't hurt a fly...unless they're a runner and Dean says so.

It was a Thursday, he was on a lunch break minding his own business when a summoning arrived over the radio, informing him of a runner over in the Lethe district. He pushed a shiny silver dial on Baby’s dash which exacted a single drop of blood, officially sealing him with the contract. He sure didn't miss the old days, so many more souls slipped through the cracks back then because bipedals fleeing eternity down under ALWAYS beat a fucking boat with a rowing stick. Who knew?

Lethe, perfect. Well at least home was on the way so he could swing by for Cerby, who was always in the mood for a snack. He rolled down Baby's window and listened to her thunderous battle cry as he amped himself up for the hunt. Cerby was happy to see him, he spent the remaining portion of the drive in the backseat conveying how disgruntled he was that morning to have been left at home yet again. 

“I’m sorry dude, can't come with me during transport. The souls are off limits.”

Cerby groaned and woofed in complaint. 

“I got you this time didn't I?”

Cerby only mildly woofed.

“Yeah but you were one Hell of a wingman. That fare was hot.” 

They pulled up to the souls quarters and he let Cerby do his thing. He inwardly groaned, Lethe runners were a bitch for paperwork, they couldn’t remember shit and got distracted more often than a squirrel drunk on Starbucks. After fifteen minutes Cerby alerted and they were off down river. 

He’d taken great care to train Cerby in properly maneuvering around the river, there was good reason Lethe residents were such an annoyance. He, Cerby, and other retrieval workers were fine when briefly exposed to the fumes in this district. The permanent residents however, remained in a perpetual hotbox from the gaseous stream, or “river” winding through the region contained in an outlying cavern on the edge of Underworld. Souls assigned to this district suffered amnesia-like side effects that usually reset over night as the potency of the fumes also settled. During the day as souls roamed about, their activity caused vibrations throughout the cavern which increased the amount of fumes produced. As the day progressed, so did activity and the souls toxic absorption. They calmly began with the memory of their lives but by day's end became anxious, extremely hyperactive, and could no longer remember even themselves. 

The fumes were an irritant, but so help the wayward soul or even a worker for that matter who touched even a drop of liquid from that river. It spelled eternal torment for a worker, but was a true death sentence for a soul who immediately vanished into The Void. Seeing as how Underworld was fueled by souls, the reigning “establishment” wasn't too keen on souls disappearing, so efforts had been made to prevent contact with the liquid yet allow the district to continue it's noxious festering of oblivion for all time. 

Cerby ran along the barrier which paralleled the river, howling all the while that the runners scent was present and headed towards the Combs. It was   
so called because the maze of pockets resembled the homes of honey bees and led to the great blue yonder where the real bees were free to fly. Dean knew the Combs like the back of his hands, seeing as how from Lethe it was usually the first place a soul came to-if they managed to get past the barrier gates. A soul usually became immediately confused upon entering, guessing they were random pockets. This one however seemed to be running straight for the center, as if knowing exactly how to pull a prison break out of Underworld. They were fast too, which for midday wasn't too uncommon but the fumes should’ve been kicking in by now and slowing them down, causing further confusion...not the other way around. 

Cerby was bounding down the center coil, grunting heavier as the scent became stronger. Dean finally heard it, the three notes sung by Cerby’s breed when their prey's been cornered. He’d trained him since he was a pupper to sing the notes but wait for permission before indulging in the customary nibble or snack. He rounded the corner to the center Comb and knew right away something was extremely off about this runner. 

For one, instead of frothing at the mouth for his treat, Cerby had approached the runner and uncharacteristically laid next to him like an old friend. Second-the runner’s eyes were a radiant blue and stared at Dean with alarming clarity and immense fear. 

What.The.Shit. Runners were fearful, sure. They were running and didn't want to get caught, least of all between the jaws of Cerby. They also had no eye color, in fact they all had a kind of..well, Dean didn't like to be rude, but they really did look like the walking dead with grayish white eyes. This runner, this man, was no drab waif. This man was beautiful, and aware, and obviously sooo NOT supposed to be here. 

He’d come across this only once before, in his internship under Cherti and Aken. When Enkidu, soulmate of Gilgamesh died, he entered the veil and lingered for a time confused and distraught. He finally approached a ferryman who was unaware of his personage and brought him over. It was quite the scene in Underworld when Ninsun, Goddess and mother of Gilgamesh, blasted through the gates and tore her way to Hades in retribution for failing to turn him away and send him to the sky world in the first place. The green eyed, eight foot giant had been terrified and Dean really felt for the guy. Ninsun’s fury at the dimwitted ferryman remained a legendary example that Dean saw fit to remember with every fare since. Moral of the story? Know who you're dealing with before the boat goes a rowin’.

So what the Hell could’ve happened to this poor bastard? More importantly, who would soon come crash the gates for him? He was gonna have to tread reeeeaaaal careful here. Dean patted Cerby's heads and called him off, not that he was gnawing on him anyways. Looked like he was going to roll in his lap and beg for belly rubs if anything. He approached and tried to speak calmly, “Who ferried you? I need to know….”

“N-n-noboddy. I was home, but then suddenly ended up here” the man said looking around with fearful curiosity.

Shit. No really. Something about this business smelled. People did not just show up here, you are ferried or you don't come over. Period. End of story. Accidents don't just happen accidentally. 

“Well, what's your name?”

The man looked at him with those piercing blue eyes..which were getting bluer by the second..seriously what the hell. OH MY ZEUS. He’s one of the Watcher's from Olympus! Shit!!!!! Oh my helllll no!!! 

“ We’ve gotta go. NOW!” Dean yelled.

Unsure if his bonds would hold a watcher but needing to get the fuck outta dodge like yesterday, he clapped them on and pulled at him to stand. Immediately they both felt something akin to electrocution and lightning ricocheted off the Comb walls. Dean had never in his existence seen, felt, or even heard of this phenomenon occurring. Yet he didn't know much about watchers either. 

Who’s bringing in who here?

Cerby was yelping and twitching, Dean grabbed him under one arm and pulled this watcher with the other. It was like trying to hold a bail of hay and tug a refrigerator at the same time. 

“We HAVE to go!! If I turn you in they’ll shred my ass, send the pieces to the void, and ask questions later. Even if they don't, somebody from Olympus will come raging in here assuming I ferried you and the same thing will happen. The only choice we have is to get you topside and figure out what happened.”

The watcher grabbed Cerby from him, nodded in understanding, and followed Dean hurriedly through the Combs and back to Baby. 

“Why can you not just take me back to Olympus? I have brothers and sisters there, it's my home!”

Dean gestured for him to throw Cerby in the back and hop in. “Been in a fight with any of them lately? Ruffle anyone's feathers?” 

“Uriel….dammit.”

“I take it he’s got the clout to send you here with a one way ticket?” he asked while carefully unlocking the bonds.

“No, but he knows some who do.”

Dean rev’d up his Baby and peeled out of Lethe, they headed for a section of tunnel that unbeknownst to the establishment, split off and went underneath the River Acheron which also led to the wild blue yonder. 

“So who are you, I mean you're a watcher obviously, but what's your name?”

“Castiel. You're Charon... aren't you?”

“Last I checked.”

“You realize the world still labors under the impression you're a Goddess, correct?”

“That’s cuz I’m so pretty” Dean smirked and winked, “the less people with a pulse know about me the better. I'm happy to remain a confusing myth. They want to imagine a beautiful Goddess, perfect. All the funnier their surprised mugs will be when they get a eyeful of me and my 'boat’.”

Castiel was surprised, he’d heard a great deal about Charon, but so far none of it was true...well, except for the charismatic part. And maybe the beautiful part as well. They cruised into the Acheron District but tried not to look too rushed. Attention at this point could be deadly.

“We're not using your river?” Castiel wondered.

“Nah, Styx is the main gate, far too many ferryman pool there waiting for fares. The Acheron leads to the Acheron River topside and comes out in a pretty desolate region of Greece so it should give us a head start. I’m off leash for another four hours before they’ll start summoning for news. So that's four hours we’ve got to start searching for an ally and/or an informant.”

Castiel was suddenly very pleased they had some free time “off leash” as Charon put it. The more he went on about his plan to help, the more alluring and strong his character revealed itself to be. This was a good spirit, one with 'heart' if one could call it that. Cas found himself extremely attracted to the legendary ferryman. He was unbelievably furious with Uriel over this betrayal. He had suspected him of working with unsavory species to upheave Olympus, it was clear now his suspicions were warranted. He could see the position Charon was put in now because of his sudden presence in Underworld. He felt badly about it and was looking forward to showing his deep appreciation for the generous assistance. The fact that they’d be in a desolate region for hours would give him ample time to creatively convey his sentiments. 

Dean noticed Castiel staring at him with a quiet intensity from the passenger seat. Something about the way his eyes roamed over his form was incredibly stirring. His existence was completely upheaved, neither of them had any guarantee of survival given that his Underworld establishment wasn't big on interrogating and Castiel's brethren obviously had powerful friends in fucked up places. It would be a nightmare finding anyone to help them with Hades other specialists on their ass and this Uriel trying to bury Castiel. He had a few ideas, but it sounded like Castiel did too. 

As they headed out of the tunnel and out into the wild blue yonder with Cerby in tow, they both wondered if the other was someone they could afford to take a chance on. Neither had contemplated a soul mate before, yet something had definitely sparked in the Combs and Dean wanted to chase that lightning bolt to see where it led, just as soon as they resolved this situation. Maybe they didn't have a hope or a prayer of getting out of this alive. But Dean was the best specialist in the business, he knew runners. He knew how to catch them, which meant he knew how to outsmart those Hades would send for him and Cas. He never thought he'd be running himself, but right now he was damn grateful he wouldn't be running alone.


End file.
